Hi hotshot,
I hate feeling like everything I write is rubbish. It happens more and more recently. Everything is there- computer, pens, paper, pencils, I have chalk* available. But it seems like all the writing instruments in the world will never make the scary blank spaces on the screen any less intimidating. It's like my mind is just as blank- I'm a silly dreamer, so all that empty white feels like a landscape of snow. And you can make as many snow angels and snow men and women and children as you like, but then- but then what? How do you make a snow village without a shovel? Or even just a house? How do I finish one petty snow house without some inspiration?
Is this the part where all the hard work kicks in? Where you persevear through the bleakness until the sun rises again, mets the white, reveals the colours underneath. But that's no fun. It's like the ice is eternal. It feels that way, anyhow.
But I hate unresolved problems so I'll try to fix it. Write at a more regular time, for one. Maybe then my brain will learn when to get funky. And while it learns, I'll have to continue on with what I've got until the avalanche clears and I reach some good solid ground again.
*It just occurred to me that chalk is in fact white. Rats.
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